Butte semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1886-1890, 1887-02-05

rolks osIsve IN miracles. It wss simply Q
nervous accident to the optical apparatus
nothing more; perhaps there was a slight
| congestion.
And l lighted my candle. As 1 bent down
over the fire ! found myself trembling, and !
drew myself up again with a sudden start,
Is II some one bad touched me from behind.
Certainly my nerves were out of order.
I walked TO and fro for q little while. ]
talked aloud to myself. I hummed a few
airI
Then I double-locked the door of my room,
md 1 began to feel somewhat treasured. At
oil events, nobody could get in.
Again I sat down, and for a long time I
thought over my adventure. Then I went to
bed and blew out my light.
For q few minutes everything seemed all
right. / remained lying quietly on my back.
Then l felt an Irresistible desire to take q
look at my room, and I turned over on my
dde.
Ny fire held only two or three red embers,
which barely lighted the legs of the chair;
and l thought I saw the man sitting there
again.
1struck a match quickly. But I had been
mistaken; I could see nothing.
Nevertheless l got up, took the chair, and
placed It out Of sight behind my bed.
Then l made everything dark again, and
tried to 60 to sleep. l could not rave sunk
INTO unconsciousness for more than five
minutes, when I saw I'M dream, and as dis
tinctly rs reality itself. the whole incident Of
that evening. l woke up in terror, and after
making a light, sat up in bed without daring
70 try to 60 to sleep again.
Sleep, notwithstanding, twice seized upon
me for a few moments, in spite Of myself.
Twice I saw the same thing. I thought I had
actually gone mad!
When daylight appeared felt completely
cured, and I took u peaceful sleep until mid
day.
It had passed, entirely passed. I had had a
fever, q nightmare, or something Of that sort.
Anyhow I had been sick. Nevertheless I
thought myself very much Of q fool.
That day I was quite jolly. Idined at the
cabaret, went to the theatre, and then started
for home. But 10! n I drew near my house,
q strange sense of u~neasiness took possession
Of me. was afraid of seeing him again
him! Not afraid of him precisely-not afraid
of his presence, in which I did not believe;
but afraid of another optical trouble, afraid
OF tho hallucination, afraid Of tho fear which
would come upon me.
For moro than an hour I kept walking up
and down the sidewalk. Then at last I do
cidsd this was absolute folly, and I went in.
I painted so much that I could scarcely climb
the stairs. l stood for fully ten minutes more
on the landing, in front of my room. Then,
suddenly, l felt a rush of courage, a bracing
up of will. Iplunged my key in the keyhole;
I rushed forward with a lighted candle in my
hand; I kicked in the unfastened door of the
room, and l threw one terrified glance at the
fireplace. saw nothing. All!
What a relief! What joy! What a deliv-
erance! I went to and fro with a staggering
air. But still I did not feel perfectly conf
dent. l would turn round by fits and starts
to look behind me; the darkness in the cor
ners of the room frightened me.
I slept badly, being incessantly startled out
Of my rest by imaginary noises. But 1 never
saw him. No. That was all over.
Ever since hat day I w been afraid to
be alone at night. I can feel it there, close to
me-the vision! It did not make its appear
ance again-oh, no! And what matter, any.
how, since I don't believe in it, since I know
that it is nothing!
Still it annoys me, because I keep all the
time thinking about it. One arm was hang
ing down on the right side; his head dropped
q little to the left, like that of a man asleep.
Come, that's enough of it, nom de Dieu! !
don't want to think about it any more!
And still, what is this feeling of being
hauntedl Why does it persist in this way!
His feet were quite close to the fire.
He haunts me; it is madness, but it is sol
Who is he? I know perfectly well that he
does not exist-that it is nothing whatever!
He only exists in my apprehension, in my
fear, in my anguish! There! that's enough!
Yes, but it's no use for me to reason with
myself about it-no use to try to brace up
against it; I can't remain alone at home any
more, because he is there! I know I won't
see him any more; he won't show himself
~again-that's past. But he is there all the
same, in my thought. Because he remains in
visible, it does not follow that he is not therel
He is behind the doors, and in the armoir and
under the bed-in all the dark corners, in all
the shadows. If l stir tho door upon its
hinges, if l open my armoir, if I lower my.
light to look under the bed, if I throw the
light upon the corners, upon the shadows, he
Is not there, but then I feel him behind me! I
turn round-certain all the while that I am
not going to see him, that I will not ever see
him again. He is behind me still, for all that.
It is stupid, but it is atrocious! What
would you have me do? I can do nothing.
But il there were two of US together at
home, then, I feel-yes, I am perfectly sure
that he would not be there anymore. For he
is there because I am alone-and for no other
reason than because / am alone.-Guy de
Isupassaut - Translated for Times Demo
Eat.